Pretty Little Pictures
by NSSP.SaruWatari
Summary: When parents decide to get rid of memories,and come across pictures of them,emotions run high.


_Look papa I did it!_She would exclaim every time she did something right. It pained him too much to remember those days, when she was too small to understand the world, before she understood anything, before she left. Francis had finally started to clean out her old room and pack away her left behind possessions. It brought back painful memories. The red ribbon she had bought him to match her own, a stuffed fish she had given him as a thanks on his birthday, the little picture painted by a small child of his little girl, him, and a fish, all came out of his room and into a box. When he entered her room, the tears almost escaped his eyes and down his cheeks. Fish, ribbons, and pictures were scattered all over the room. He stared at each item for a long time before carefully laying it in the box. So many pictures of him together some drawn others taken. When he reached a box titled "DO NOT OPEN" he almost obeyed it but ended up opening it to see what his darling ex-colony had to hide. Once he realized what was in there he felt like his heart had been torn open. Torn out angry and sad diary pages some even torn up most of the pages showed spots where tears had obviously dried, half burned pictures, and small piles of ash, all of the same person. He began to read some of the pages that where whole,

_I can`t believe I still waste my time trying to compare to her, to steal his heart back. It`s so stupid! IM so stupid! How could I possibly think I would earn a place that high in his heart!?! I can`t and I never will so I should just let it go, there`s no use crying over this. I will let him go! Oh who am I kidding I never will never could. I think I lo- oh he`s coming I have to go! – Seychelles_

Only when a tear fell on the paper did the nation realize he was crying everything here was written in sadness, anger, hate, or jealousy and all about the same person. Jeanne, HIS Jeanne, Joan of Arc , the one whom he talked so fondly of, so often of. If he had known about her feelings, the hatred and jealousy that he didn't understand, he probably wouldn't have spoken of her so often, so tenderly. Then maybe, just maybe she wouldn't have left.

In great pain France managed to pack the last box and hid it away with the others, and he hoped, his feelings would remain with them, with all of those pretty little pictures.

_____

" Why am I even doing this?" Arthur grumbled as he carried boxes to a part of his house in which he had not been in several years. As soon as he walked in the room his mood changed and he hurt, somewhere suspiciously close to the heart. While he looked around the room he was shocked that there were so many pictures he had kept. So many memories he had preserved. Young Alfred laughing with him in a field, a preteen version of Alfred joking contently with him, a teenage version teasing him mercilessly. _There is no reason for me to hurt. _How many times had Arthur repeated this to himself? At least ten times since he had walked in the room. He continued to repeat it over and over in his head hoping he would eventually believe it as he packed those pretty little pictures. He still questioned why Alfred had left him, what had gone wrong?

" He`s a selfish git." The nation grumbled hoping he would believe this statement as well. No matter how irritated Arthur became with the Alfred, even after he left, he still cared about him, despite the constant denial of it. It pained him as he thought about what used to be and quite possibly could have been , had the boy not left him. Life would have played out differently, what was wouldn't be. Maybe he would be happier, maybe. By the time the tears came it was too late, he had boxed up and buried each and every pretty little picture.

______

Yao looked disdainfully at all of the pictures surrounding him, wondering why they were still there. So he began to gather them memories flooding back with each one he put in his hand. With each one he picked up he stared at it longer than the last occasionally smiling at the snapshots of what used to be. Kiku had been so young when they first met, so willing to stay with China to learn from him. So what happened? Why did he leave? Why did he turn on him? Yao shook the thoughts and emotions from his head and continued to grab pictures. Before he knew it the emotions were back along with the memories. Yao quickly shook them from his head and replaced them with anger. Any pictures of Japan had been taken down , out of their frames if they had one, and put in a pile. Then he brought the slightly heavy pile to a burning candle he had left on the kitchen table. He lifted the first picture and was hit with pain from the memory, Kiku smiling warmly on Yao`s own birthday at him. After staring at that picture until it seemed to play out the scene ,he lowered the picture into the tiny flame and watched it catch fire, until the picture slowly turned to nothing but ash and extinguished. He repeated the prosess several times, completely oblivious to the streams of tears running down his cheeks. As he burned each and every pretty little picture

A/N: im not exactly sure where this came from but plz plz plz r/r!!!


End file.
